


Overgrown

by lesbiansinoctober



Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Babies, Disabled Character, F/F, Kidnapping, LGBTQ Themes, Mild Gore, Sort Of, dont read for the pairing its very much not about that, i just decided louie is a gay bc its what he deserves sorry abt it, mostly i just brought luke back, this is my magnum opus i wish i could explain how much work im putting into this fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2020-04-08 09:38:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19104523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbiansinoctober/pseuds/lesbiansinoctober
Summary: The apocalypse has a way of tearing people down. It will never matter how strong you once were.





	1. hospitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If it looks safe, it must be.

It wasn’t the walking that was getting them. They had walked hundreds of miles in the past few years. Something about the air, they reasoned, maybe. Maybe they had pulled a muscle. It wasn’t to be dark for a few more hours, and the sisters would have plenty of time to gain some real distance. Still, they decided it would be better to find someplace to rest.

“I don’t know what it is,” Frankie says, “I just feel like I wanna stop.”  
  
“I got it,” Rhiannon responds. She feels it too, but she knows better than to trust that alone.

Rhiannon bounces her backpack on her back, readjusting to prepare to keep going. They’d left from a small shed they’d been staying in a few days ago, and were quite antsy to find somewhere warm to stay for the night. They had camped out, switching off and keeping watch on one another for the past few nights, but this was getting old and tiring quickly. They both know that if they were going to stop for a while, some real sort of housing was ideal.

Small houses dot the landscape, but each of them looked too overrun. Rhiannon stops to look at a few, noting the way vines crawled up the sides, or the way the glass of the windows cracked differently. She wishes she could commit these small pictures to memory. That way, in the darkness, before sleep or while keeping watch, when she only had Frankie’s breathing and the soft moan of wind to listen to, she’d have some beauty to stave off thoughts she’d rather not have. 

“What about that one, Ray? That one look okay?” Frankie points towards a cream-colored house a little ways away. Rhiannon shrugs in response, but took the lead towards the small building.

“I hope nothing’s in here. My knitting needle is the only weapon I can reach right now,” Rhiannon jokes.

“I’ve got my knife. But don’t take the piss on your knitting needles, those bitches can do more than you think,” Frankie says, voice flat.

“I’m aware, bitch,” Rhiannon retorts, “I just don’t wanna get shit all over my scarf.”

“That’s fair.” The two are laughing as Rhiannon picks the lock to the house. The door pops open quickly, and though the mood is light, the girls are armed and on alert. 

The light mood drops instantly. Frankie’s eyes lock with those of a man. He is taller than her, long brown hair covered in sweat and dirt, as is the look of the times. He doesn’t look particularly threatening, but lately no one has really been shaped like a friend. “Rhiannon, get behind me.” She draws her knife and holds it out. “We mean no trouble.” She says this calmly, slowly, once Rhiannon has moved.

“Hey, hey,” the man says, one arm flying up. Frankie doesn’t break their eye contact, too afraid, but Rhiannon does.

“Uh, Frankie?” She whispers, leaning forward. “Frankie, he’s got a baby.”

The man nods. He steps backwards, tripping a little over the uneven floor. “Yeah, I do, I’ve got a baby. We don’t mean no trouble either.”

Frankie turns to peek at Rhiannon before lowering her weapon. She takes a deep breath. The walls of the hallway are a light brown, orangey and cheerful. The ceiling has a popcorn texture, the kind the girls had watched their dad create with cat litter and white paint in their living room once. Frankie might have smiled at this, if she found the time. Instead, she brings her eyes back up to the man in front of her. “Frankie,” she says, and she nods behind her, “and Rhiannon.”

“Luke,” the man replies, and his shoulders lower, visibly calmer. “And, uh, Birdy.”

Rhiannon can’t help but to laugh. She repeats, “Birdy?” before realizing the situation she’s in, and stepping back behind Frankie sheepishly.

Luke’s face falls a little, before laughing himself. “Yeah, Birdy.” He has a Southern accent, the slightest tinge on his vowels. “I didn’t pick it, so don’t judge me.”

“Sorry, we haven’t been around anyone but each other in...” Frankie elbows Rhiannon a little, “years.” She pauses, “but you have to admit, Birdy is a bit of a _name_.” Luke nods, and the three share a smile.

Frankie steps forward a little, allowing the door to close behind them. She looks from Luke, to the baby, to Luke, before asking, “Are you guys staying here?”

Forgetting any uncertainty, Rhiannon walks around Frankie, and forward into the house. She peeks around the stairs into the kitchen and living room before returning to the hall where they had gathered.

“Uh,” Luke turns to look at her, then turns back to Frankie again. “I mean, yeah, but… We’ve got room.” He knows that the girls are young. He couldn’t imagine what he would’ve done if he’d been out there, alone, at that age. He can barely conceive what he’s doing out here at his age. Plus, the look of relief that washes over the girls’ faces is enough for him.

“Just tonight,” Frankie says, more to herself than anything.

“Can we loot? If you just got here you can go first, but… We’re looking for some stuff.” Rhiannon looks to Luke excitedly. He barely has time to nod before she’s heading off upstairs.

“If you two see any baby stuff, we could use that,” he says to Frankie.

“Oh, that’s all yours. We’re on the hunt for old sweaters. She loves to knit.” Frankie leaves Luke to follow her sister up the stairs.

\---

By the time it grows dark, the trio have gathered candles to light the rooms, small blankets to replace the sweatshirt Birdy is swaddled in, and a grey sweater for Rhiannon to tear up when she gets the time. The living room is set like there should be a large family gathered around, laughing and warm in front of a fire. Instead, there are two sisters, shuffling in awkward silence, a man, watching the sisters out of the corner of an eye, and a baby that will absolutely fight her father to death if he keeps trying to swaddle her. A small fire was attempted in the fireplace, but it was fading out and it wasn’t really that cold anyways.

“Hey, Luke, I think we’ll sleep down here tonight. Don’t wanna get too comfortable, ya know?” Frankie says, turning from Rhiannon to look at Luke. “Dude, let me help. She’s lookin’ stronger than you are.”

“I just wanna wrap her up like they do in the hospital. When her arms are stuck down.” He tries to gesture with his hands the swirly mess, but Frankie is already tucking the blanket around her. “Thanks,” he says quietly when she’s done. He lets the air settle for a minute. “I think I will too. Wanna keep Birdy warm with the fire.”  

The four are silent, with the exception of a few grumbles from Birdy, until they are all sure each other is sleeping. Eventually they all are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive got this mostly planned out and abt half written so lmk what yall are thinkin!! i'll update p regularly since i've got the next 14 chaps already written


	2. fondness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ice melts, as it always does.

The morning is quiet, much like the night. The sisters avoid talking, unsure if their conversations will upset their housemate. They knit, legs sprawled out on the floor and leaning against the legs of the couch they slept on. Luke looks on, out of the corner of an eye, at the loops out yarn knotting together.

After some time, Rhiannon gets up. She digs through a bag and returns with a can of beans and a fork. She works through the top, pulls it off, and offers some to her sister. They pass it back and forth, eating in silence for a few rounds.

On her third turn, Frankie reaches out her arm to Luke. “Want some?” she asks, half-smiling in effort to look kind.

“I’m okay,” he says, “but thank you.” It’s more formal than he’d have liked.

The silence stretches, Luke bouncing Birdy and the sisters knitting, until Rhiannon groans, finally snapping it.

“I think I’m getting old,” she laughs. She grabs the arm of the couch, pulling her torso to the left.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Ray! That’s so gross!” Frankie objects. Her hands fly to cover her ears.

Rhiannon’s back cracks on her left, and she whips toward the right to try the other side.

“You are really the worst,” Frankie says. She adds in vomit noises to punctuate.

She doesn’t notice the smile that grows across Luke’s face. “Just wait,” he says. “She’s got nothing on this.” He cracks his neck with three echoing pops, laughing.

“Not you, too!” Frankie cries, hands over her ears again. She leaves her knitting on the floor to run away from the noise. “Tell me when it’s safe to come back!” she yells from the hallway, peeking her head in.

“You’re safe!” Rhiannon and Luke respond, laughing.

It’s calm, for once, and maybe they could stay like that.

\---

They spend the next three nights the same way. They talk more, laughing together and making stupid jokes. The apprehension, the fear of the other, fades for all three of them. The girls nor Luke mention the extension of their stay, but all three of them are grateful for it. The sisters share what cans they have with Luke. Frankie, especially, lightens up on the worry that it won't last. The house has food, but not much. It’s far enough into the woods that any looting has missed it thus far, but it must have not been well stocked in the first place. Rhiannon eyes the fridge, once, and has an unspeakable desire to open it. She hasn’t seen the inside of a fridge in years, she just thinks it would be fun. She makes it across the kitchen, hand grabbing the door, and is almost pulling when Luke stands over her and holds it closed.

“This thing,” he says, voice firm but face grinning, “is full of food so rotten the smell’ll knock you out.” Trying to argue, Rhiannon stumbles through a few words, but Luke shakes his head. Rhiannon feigns a defeated sigh, and moves along.

They stick to the cabinets from then on.

\---

On their third morning, Frankie wakes before the others. She lays their torn and browned blanket back over Rhiannon, and wriggles out from behind her. She runs her fingers through her hair and braids it back again. It’s barely long enough to be tied at the end of french braids, but she and Rhiannon had decided that was safest a few years ago. They braid their hair up and cut it at the hair tie for each other every few months.

Frankie and Rhiannon had left their bags in the hallway in front of the door. The sisters still have the same backpacks, beat up grey and black ones that they used to drag to school and back. Now, they’re filled with things that wouldn’t do much good at school. They each have a few sets of knitting needles, most of them buried at the bottom of the bags. Frankie carries two books. She likes to say that if they get a place to stay for real, she’ll collect a bunch of them. For now, she carries two, and fills the pages with whatever small scraps of papers she finds. Fortunes from old cookies, a receipt for a convenience store, a shopping list for eggs and breadcrumbs. She doesn’t find them often. Rhiannon carries her lockpicking set, a small plastic case with just enough space for her equipment and a polaroid picture. She won’t tell you who of, though. They each have a fork and a spoon should they find something to eat. The rest of the space in their bags are filled with cans, water bottles, yarn, anything they’ve recently gathered. Frankie takes her bag and empties it into a pile on the carpeted floor. She does the same with her sisters.

When she hears movement, she brings the bags into the living room. “I’m going out,” Frankie announces, voice low to let Birdy sleep. “We need food.”

Luke stares back, rubbing sleepy eyes and nodding. “I’m coming… Rhiannon, do you think you can watch Birdy?”

The sisters make eye contact briefly, a shared look of surprise. “Yeah! Yes, I mean, I can watch her.” Rhiannon’s excitement about looking after a baby outweighs any shock she might’ve had about Luke’s eagerness to join Frankie.

Frankie tosses Luke an empty bag and puts the other on her back. She turns around before he’s able to say anything to her, finding her shoes and putting them on. Confused, Luke looks to Rhiannon, but she only offers a shrug in reply. Luke follows Frankie, and hands Birdy to Rhiannon. “Make sure you support her neck… And don’t let her get too loud.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter count is gonna fluctuate sry i really dont know how long this will go. please let me know what you think!!


	3. lull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black is either a lack of color or all colors.

“Been on your own long?” Frankie has grown tired of the weight of the air on her chest.

The sky is open above them, blaring sun casting disgusting light on the corpses in the street. Frankie tries not to look at them, but sometimes she catches herself staring. A man, not much older than Luke, twitches from underneath a downed light pole. Not alive, not dead, just twitching, lips working around blackened teeth. His fingers are long as he reaches out towards the pair, with skin peeling off the tips. He never reaches them. When Frankie lays down that night, she’ll find herself imagining what kind of life would lead him to these potholed streets.

“No. You?” Luke steps over a stop sign laying in the street. 

“Saw a shopping plaza down that way” Frankie points in front of them. “I mean, I’ve got Ray.”

The sound of their feet hitting pavement is soft. Like rain, almost. 

“Were you with Birdy’s mom a while?” It’s quick. Frankie wants to ask it about as much as Luke wants to answer it, but curiosity and all that.

He groans a little. “Yeah.” He stops to point at a walker a few feet away. “I got this one.” It takes small, wobbly steps toward him, and once within reach, he brings the fat side of the wiggly axe they had found in the basement of the house down on it. It stumbles back, moaning, and he hits it again, splitting its head with the sharp side. The pair take a left turn, new street dotted with corpses much more frequently than the ones they had come from. “There was a group of us, a while ago. A girl, another baby, and Birdy’s mom. Some other people too, but we were the ones that made it. The girl took the baby and left. Wish she didn’t, but I don’t blame her. Think Birdy’s mom kinda drove her out.”

Frankie doesn’t know if he’ll continue. She looks on, catching the pink glittery sneakers of a child strewn on the sidewalk, sans the feet that brought them there. He does. “Then Birdy came and I don’t think…” He pauses for a beat. “I don’t think her mom ever planned on being that.” Another beat. “Found her hanging from the rafters maybe a week ago. Birdy was cryin’ her head off and Jane was just swingin’.”

“Was she…?”

“Yeah.” The word is the last they share for a while. They’ve come across the shopping plaza by now. Doors are boarded up, but windows are knocked out. The place has been looted nearly dry, but the two are well versed in finding what they need. Few walkers dot the supermarket aisles. Hushed conversations and soft footsteps keep them there, milling about.

The locked glass that separates the baby formula has already been broken, but the contents are inside. “Keep watch?” She asks. Frankie kneels down and begins to fill her bag with the purple boxes of powder. “I had siblings,” she says, not looking to see if Luke is even listening. “Besides Ray, I mean. Two of them.”

“I’m sorry.” The words are out of his mouth before he’s put thought to them.

“They barely made it out of the house. Younger one was deaf. Couldn’t really warn her, you know?” Frankie zips her bag with a shake. “Older one, he was autistic. Runner. Ran right the fuck off.” She stands. “Anything for us?” 

He shakes his head. “You think this stuff is still good? The formula?” Luke points to Frankie’s bag.

Frankie shrugs. “It’ll have to be, yeah?”

\---

It gets cold quicker than they had hoped it would. The four of them stay in the living room all winter, burning fires with wood Luke cut haphazardly with the wiggly axe that Luke has claimed as his own. 

“You ever think about what it woulda been like without all this shit?”

Frankie gives her sister a confused look. “It’s not even that late and you’re pullin’ out that stuff?”

Rhiannon is used to Frankie’s snark and doesn’t pay it any mind. “I’d wanna be a florist. If this didn’t happen. You ever think about that stuff?”

It’s silent for a moment while Luke wraps Birdy up tightly and tucks her into the crook of his arm. “I do. All the time.”

The girls look at him, pushing him to continue on. 

“I don’t know if I’d have kids. I never liked them before this.”

“But you’re so good with her,” Rhiannon says. She knows herself, knows Frankie from before, but she realizes she’ll never know who Luke was before people started eating each other. She doesn’t even know what he was like before he met them.

Luke smiles, face warm like the fire. “She’s different. They’re different when they’re yours, I guess.”

“How come you had her? If you didn’t want any.”

“Ray!” Frankie says, slapping her sisters arm lightly. Rhiannon shoves the hand off and keeps looking at Luke.

“It’s okay,” Luke says to Frankie. He rocks Birdy, thinking. “You know how when things are real scary, you get nervous and you can’t see straight?” The girls nod. “Things weren’t good, and I weren’t thinkin’.” He coughs.

“Are things good now?” Frankie is the one asking now.

“You’ll know when it’s bad. You feel so anxious the whole world turns black, that’s how you know.” 

The sisters don’t ask any more questions. They curl together, wrapped in fat duvets they pulled from the master bedroom and linen closets. They each lace back through their memories, searching for that floaty, black-out panic. They remembered their same lack of thought. If it brought them here, warm, together, satisfied, was that enough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking a bit long, decided to do some editing. i just started my summer job too so i apologize in advance if the next one takes a while too! lmk what you guys think bc im anxiously awaiting comments ! :)


	4. placid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes quickly when worrying, doesn't it?

As far as groups go, this one lasts pretty long. Three years pass, roughly. Maybe four. Calendars are in short supply this far into the collapse of society, but the seasons give them a rough estimate. Birdy grows fast. They can hardly find clothes to keep up with her ever-extending limbs, and she spends quite a few winters with cold ankles. The four of them move a few times, having exhausted resources, and are now a bit more Southern, having stopped a few months ago. It wasn’t supposed to be permanent, they didn’t want to kill the car they had used to get down here before they knew where to go. They had made camp in a hunting cabin in the middle of the woods. It was secluded enough that Birdy could play outside. They saw no walkers for weeks on end. When they did they were alone or in small groups. Luke loved it.

Birdy is about four now. Every first snow, Luke and Frankie celebrate a birthday. When the weather starts to warm up again, and all the snow is melted, they celebrate Rhiannon’s. Once the heat starts to hit, it’s Birdy’s. The older she got, the more nervous her caretakers became. The summer she was supposed to be two, she still wasn’t walking. Summer after that, she still hadn’t spoken. Now, she answers questions, parrots back the words others have said to her, but says little. 

The first time they had noticed something was off, she was two. Foggy and so, so hot, Luke, Frankie and Rhiannon were longing for a world that still had A/C. This morning was no different, with the sun beating down full force. The house they had commandeered had a backyard that Birdy loved, and Rhiannon had taken Birdy out to play in it only a few minutes before. The wind picked up, and with it came the rustling of trees. In the grass, Birdy preoccupied herself with plucking out the blades and throwing them around. 

Rhiannon had barely looked away from the kid for a second, but suddenly, she was screaming. She whipped her small body around with little care for what she might hit, and yelled so loud she could be heard from the clouds. These fits weren’t infrequent, but this one was so big, so odd. Rhiannon bolted to Birdy, grabbing her little limbs and pulling the child against her. “It’s okay, B,” she says, whispering.

Birdy is still yelling when Luke gets outside. “What the hell is going on?” he says. He’s quiet but Rhiannon can tell he’d yell if he could.

“I-I don’t know. I don’t know,” Rhiannon stammers. 

The second time something had been seriously off, she was four. It was already dark, unseasonably early, so Rhiannon watched Birdy while Frankie and Luke made plans for their next outing. By this point, Birdy was exhausted, and today was a record low in terms of her behavior. So, when Birdy began to scream, neither Luke or Frankie were very surprised.

“Hey guys? Can I get some help in here?” Rhiannon calls from the room across from them. Low, she tries to sound calmer than she is. Luke is running before Frankie can even stand up.

It takes a lot for Frankie to hold in a scream. Rhiannon has Birdy pinned on the ground. Bright red drips spot each of their arms and coat Birdy’s face. “What the fuck?” Luke pulls Rhiannon up. Maybe he yanks a bit hard.

“No!” Rhiannon says. “She’ll-” Her words are cut off by Birdy grunting and bringing her bloodied wrist to her mouth. Rhiannon is dropped and Birdy takes her place. Luke pulls her arms away and holds them to her sides. “She wouldn’t stop and she started bleeding and I didn’t know what to do.”

“Just… Just help me hold her okay? We have to calm her down.” Luke’s voice shakes. Rhiannon notes she’s only ever heard that shake in his voice when they aren’t certain they’ll make it out alive. She didn’t know this was one of those times.

Frankie comes forward, taking the stretched sleeve of her shirt. She takes one of Birdy’s shaking arms in hers and wipes the dots of blood off of her. Luke sits on the floor, huddled around her, and rocks slightly. Words and little melodies spill out but his panic makes them jumble and he can’t settle on one. Still, it calms Birdy, and Frankie is able to check her limbs for where the blood originated. Her wrist is bitten raw, and a few deep scratches bead up red pinheads of blood. Nothing that won’t heal. Frankie wipes the blood away, presses quick kisses to the chubby hand and stands. Birdy hums along with Luke once he’s picked a solid tune, but she doesn’t really know how it goes. It doesn’t really matter. 

“Sorry,” Rhiannon tries. 

Luke nods in response. His eyes seem to say “I know” without his words. 

“She’s okay, Ray. You’re okay?” Frankie smooths over the hair on her sister’s head with a hand.

Rhiannon glances over her arms, rubbing a bit at some of the blood drying on her wrists, and nods. “Nothing serious.”

They allow a few moments of silence. 

“Can we talk about it now?” Frankie’s eyes are pinned shut as she asks. “About Birdy?”

His breath is ragged. Eyes closed. He spares a thought for the millions of conversations he’d rather be having. “Yeah.” It’s weak. “Do y’all think she’s got… Something?”

The girls nod immediately. “That’s okay,” Frankie says cheerily. She winces at herself when she hears it. Definitely a little too much for the moment. 

Then it’s time for the question. It dawns on each of them that in another world, this would never have to be a thought. They would have someone there to help her. She’d go to school. Maybe she’d learn to articulate her thoughts and take math classes with typical kids. Maybe she wouldn’t but she’d learn to tie her shoes and cook and to have a job. Either way they wouldn’t have to ask:

“Is it safe to keep her?”

“I don’t care. I’ll make it safe.” Frankie answers in an instant.

“Me neither, I’ll do whatever she needs.” 

“Yeah,” Luke agrees. “We’ll take good care of ‘er.” It’s a promise.

They stay that way for a good while. Luke rocks her and she’s quiet. Sometimes, she presses her fingers over her closed eyelids. They let her, though, because it really can’t hurt that bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking a while! i say this every time lol but my summer job keeps me exhausted and i didn't have time to edit this one til the weekend. feel free to hit me up w questions! in my mind birdy's autistic and i base her mannerisms off a few of the autistic children i work with, but if you think she lines up more with something else, that's totally cool too! im trying to create an accurate portrayal of the kind of autism i see regularly, but i can be sorta blind sometimes so in this chapter or in future chapters, if i write smth that doesn't seem right definitely let me know!!


	5. vigilance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe this pendulum will stop swinging, but not quite yet.

They spend their mornings slowly. Frankie and Rhiannon try to cook, little fire in the living room serving as a heat source. They use the pans from the kitchen, though, and that evens the playing field a little. The three pass Birdy-watching duty around, all trying to keep her happy, although quiet. It’s spring now, what snow they got has long since melted and the ground squelches with rainwater under their feet.

The four of them take the weather as good a reason as any to be outside. They go together, hands gripping tightly to that wiggly axe from the basement or a kitchen knife the first few times. Now, used to the sounds of the wind and the squishes of the mud, they relax. Frankie runs ahead, splashing mud back at her companions. Rhiannon carries Birdy on one hip. Few words have been traded about her since the incident of a few nights ago.

“Hey guys, come check this out!” Frankie calls back. She turns around slowly, mouth agape and eyes captivated by the greenery around her. She has climbed over a chicken wire fence, with its spidery spokes bent toward the ground. A garden, maybe, or just an overgrown yard, surrounds her. Spring has brought its unkempt plants back. Fat strawberries and itchy dandelions crop up, and Frankie knows she hasn’t seen color like that in what feels like decades. Now, everything is so dirty and grey.

It takes a few moments, but Rhiannon and Luke make their way over the chicken wire into the garden. Luke holds it down so Rhiannon can step over. Birdy laughs at the little jump she takes.

“Woah,” is all Rhiannon can say. She plucks flowers, the little dandelions and the purplish weeds and doesn’t care that before this they were garbage. Birdy’s chubby fingers grab at them so she relinquishes them to her.

Luke looks to his daughter. He watches the brightness in her little eyes, moving up the winding vines to the vibrance of the fruit. “What do you think, B?” he asks her. She doesn’t answer, but all of her tiny teeth pop out in the widest smile he’s ever seen.

“Think anybody’s using this?” Frankie asks, looking to Luke.

He shrugs. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“So can we eat these?” Rhiannon says. She doesn’t wait for an answer.

The four of them pull the ripe strawberries off and stuff them in a bag, vowing to come back for more. There aren’t many, but the promise of returning feeds them more than the fruit.

The little strawberry garden becomes a common destination. On the way back from a food run, they’ll stop in, often finding nothing there. They never give the strawberries long enough to grow, plucking them off a bit too small or slightly white.

\---

The simple ecstasy of those sweet berries didn’t carry their group very far. When they would get back to their little stolen house, tensions would be just as high as they left them. Luke is quiet, focused on Birdy and worry. Rhiannon and Frankie stick together, making jokes and trying to keep things light, but it doesn’t do much.

“B, come here, sweet girl,” Frankie says, hands outstretched.

Birdy hums a little response, little noises they hope will become more words soon, and stays put.

“She doesn’t like you, she likes me.” Rhiannon is slung across a chair, legs dangling over the arm, eating strawberries from their fourth trip to the garden. “B, come see me.”

“Stop, you two are confusing her.” Luke is missing much of his usual light demeanor.

Rhiannon shrugs, albeit with some difficulty due to her position.

Luke balances a few strawberries precariously in an open palm. “Do you think we have to cut it or something? She always has such a hard time eating them.”

Frankie shrugs and walks across their little living room to assess. “You eat half and then give her the other half.” She takes a strawberry from Luke’s palm and bites off the top, leaves and all. She hands Birdy the red, pointy end, and the little girl nibbles excitedly.

“Are you sure?” His face is almost perpetually trapped in that panicked expression he has, eyes blown wide and mouth trembling slightly.

Frankie shrugs again. “Nope.”

“We need more food,” he comments after a few moments. The sisters are silent. “Can you two go out hunting tomorrow?” Luke asks, settling down next to his daughter.

Rhiannon groans. “I went last time.”

“No, you did not,” Frankie objects, “You were supposed to, and I went anyways.”

“I don’t like it!” Rhiannon says, “There’s always blood and I don’t like to pick up dead things.”

Luke lets out a loud breath, which means Birdy attempts to do the same. “We need food. Something other than these,” he holds up his palm of berries. “She needs real food.”

Rhiannon shifts on the chair. “I can watch her while you two go,” she offers.

“Or I could.”

“Frank, come on! You’re older!”

“What does that matter? I’ve gone a million times--”

“Fuck!” Luke yells, louder than either of the girls were prepared for. Birdy, evidently, isn’t prepared either, because she bursts into fat, watery tears. He continues, still. “You’re not little fuckin’ kids anymore. I can’t take care of all of you!” Outburst mostly completed, he now turns his attention to his daughter. He picks her up and begins to comfort her. Bouncing her a little, he makes his way to the door. Just before he leaves, he turns to add, “Birdy has to come first.”

The air is heavy for a few seconds of silence as the room settles without him in it. Frankie attempts to make eye contact with Rhiannon, but she turns away. Her eyes have the shine of tears about to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what yall think! comments absolutely make my day!!  
> the next two chapters have a lot going on and the one after that is where the school comes in so hang tight!!


	6. agitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many gift horses and many, many mouths.

Always the early riser, Frankie finds it easy to sneak out. The night before, Birdy had been fussy, screaming and crying and only calming when Luke held her tightly to his chest, so he would likely sleep even heavier than usual this morning. Rhiannon, on the other hand, slept lightly but was used to untangling from Frankie when she would grow restless in the mornings. Usually, when she crept out of the living room, Frankie would hide out in the upstairs of the house and watch out the windows. They quartet had never moved out and into the upper part of the house, just in case a quick getaway was needed. Luke taught the girls that, told them to be ready just in case.

Frankie doesn’t head upstairs today. Instead, she pulls her grey backpack out from it’s stashed place behind the couch and dons it. She nods to her companions, sleeping on the couches, and promises to be back soon. 

First on her list is the supermarket. They’ve picked it clean by now, picked through for anything they could use to help Birdy, toys and the like, and others had already taken the food long before they had. Still, Frankie has seen the rack of seed packets, she can practically feel the path she must take to get their under her feet already. Rhiannon’s birthday is soon, she remembers, and with the strawberries going well, they should be able to grow something else, right? Frankie snags the wiggly axe from their kitchen table and shuts the door lightly behind her. 

She knows that she shouldn’t be going alone. It’s practically the first rule of the apocalypse. But Luke was so overwhelmed by Birdy lately, and so upset that she couldn’t bring herself to even ask him. It’d be better if she went alone and came back. If she could just find some food, bring a gift for Rhiannon, the tightness of the air might let up and she could finally breathe again.

So try she does. The streets are similar to the ones at the house the quartet had inhabited when the first met, long spindly roads that take her down to the busier, city center. She keeps her footfalls soft, focuses on her breathing to keep it quiet. Few walkers stumble around her, paying little attention if she makes no sudden movements. The noise it would cause to take any of them out would attract more than the safety of killing them was worth. 

Something about the silence, the loneliness is reminiscent on her time before Luke and Birdy. The sisters don’t talk about it, not anymore, and Frankie does well to push it out of her head. Now, though, her thoughts wander. When it had been just Frankie and Rhiannon, traipsing through Eastern towns and woods, hiding from walkers and people alike, things had been much more cut and dry. Everything was about survival, no emotions to cloud any judgement. Frankie could put her sister first. Protect her with everything she had, and feel no guilt. Safety is almost a curse. Comfort always creeps in. They laugh, openly, and life is about more than just seeing the next day. With that comes the guilt for all that they’ve lost. Their siblings, their parents. A dozen groups they had come across over the years. How many times had Rhiannon felt happy only for Frankie to rip that away from her in the name of safety?

She wanted so badly for this time to be different.

\---

Luke picks Birdy up and sits her on the counter, singing softly to himself and his daughter. She cackles wildly, maybe at his singing, maybe at her own joke. “What you thinkin’ about, lil’ thing?” He asks her. She only laughs in response.

With her hands behind her back, Rhiannon peers in from the door frame. “Luke?” She calls. He turns. “I made you and Birdy something. It’s sorta not winter anymore so I dunno if you’re gonna use them but I couldn’t make them any faster ‘cause I’ve only made scarves before and I really wanted them to be good so don’t judge me.”

Luke’s face softens. “Ray, let me see.” This is the first time he’s called her that. She pulls out two grey knitted hats. There are a few pulls, and the yarn is much dirtier in some spots than others. 

“It’s not blood, I promise.”

“I know. Thank you, Rhiannon, really.” He can’t explain what this means.

He doesn’t get the time. The front door slams behind Frankie, and she’s gasping, hands shaking. “Guys,” she tries, but the word doesn’t work. They rush in anyways. “We’ve got to go.” It’s barely a whisper.

Rhiannon’s eyes go wide, and Frankie can see tears welling up. She’s mad, almost. She’d spent years telling Rhiannon not to get comfortable. They were here months too long, anyways. Ever hopeful, Rhiannon had spent her time planting roots. 

“Wait, Frankie, slow down. What’s going on?” Luke’s voice is stable, the calm in the calamity. 

“I,” her voice shakes, “went out. The shops, I figured I’d be fine. I stopped by the strawberries, too.”

“What the fuck, Frankie?” Rhiannon exclaims.

“Alone?” Luke says, overlapping Rhiannon’s words. 

Frankie winces at the escalation. “I thought I’d be fine. We’ve been there,” she breathes slowly, “so many times and nobody really wanted to but Birdy needed food and…” She pulls a hand behind her back, quickly but not unnoticed.

“We would’ve gotten her food. You didn’t need to go alone.” He’s firmer now. 

“Some… Somebody’s real mad we been taken all the fruit and they started shooting.” She takes a couple of heaving breaths. “It was so loud and… Everything just felt like that black.” The words come out quick, winding their way around the three of them and stifling any continuation of conversation for a few moments. 

“Were you bit?”

She stares at her sister in shock. “What? No.”

“Are you sure?” The eye contact hurts, just a little. Frankie nods.

“Then I guess we’ll leave,” Luke says, breaking the silence. He grits his teeth, turning away from the girls, and grabbing Birdy from the floor. “I’ll check the car tonight.”

Rhiannon pulls her sister in for a hug, brief and awkwardly tight. Frankie is uncomfortable but allows her sister this reassurance. In her left hand, tucked behind Frankie’s back are seed packets.

Rhiannon doesn’t know whether to be grateful or angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *insert another excuse that my job is exhausting and i couldn't update bc of that*  
> but thats really my excuse im sorry and i will get back into the swing in two weeks when its over lol.  
> please leave me a comment, id love to know what you think!


	7. dependence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a plan is a prayer, isn't that what they say?

Pinks and oranges dot an early morning sky when the quartet climbs into the car. The engine is hot with the effort it took to get it started. It makes the car warm, comforting to climb into. The seats are dirty, used when people were alive, and just abused afterwards. Birdy waddled out to the car, but climbs into Frankie’s lap to fall back asleep when she settles in. Rhiannon sits shotgun, holding the map in front of her like she was going to read it. At her feet sits her bag, stuffed soft with yarn in case they don’t stay long enough to gather any for a while. Luke drives the first chunk, and the older girls switch off for a while. Rhiannon is a lot calmer of a driver than Frankie, so Frankie drives in shorter bursts. When Luke and Rhiannon make eye contact in the rear view mirror, Frankie’s hands grip the steering wheel too tightly. Rhiannon doesn’t fail to giggle at his pained expression. 

They have to siphon gas a few times. Few cars lay abandoned on the street, just enough to keep them going. By the time they need gas, they’re in need of a stretch anyhow. Rhiannon stops a little abruptly, popping the door open before she’s even in park. Little feet follow, little hand holding Luke’s. His fingers wrap around her wrist just in case. 

“Luke, I still don’t know how to do this.” Frankie dangles the plastic tubing in front of her.

“Do do this.” Birdy repeats. Her smile is wide.

“I’ve got it,” Luke says, holding his empty hand out. He looks around for a good candidate while Birdy and Frankie pace, stretch their legs. 

Rhiannon has already run up the road a bit, peeking into the windows of cars. “This one looks new, don’cha think?” She calls, gesturing behind her at a small, grey car. “Looks like they ditched it recently.”

“How can you tell?” Luke has abandoned the car he was working on, deciding it to be empty. 

“They usually are more beat up. Got stuff growin’ in ‘em, maybe.” She moves to let Luke kneel next to the gas tank.

“Hmm,” he replies, not paying attention any longer. The fingers of one hand tap on the cold glass of the windows, while Rhiannon uses the other to shade her eyes from the sun. She presses her face against the glass. “Anythin’ good?” 

“Nope,” she answers, standing up straight. “Maybe nex-” She doesn’t finish, eyes going wide. 

In front of her, Frankie holds Birdy in one arm. Frankie bites her lip, eyes held shut. Her arm is twisted behind her back, held in place by a woman. She is taller than Frankie, a hand placed lightly on her shoulder. The woman smiles, making eye contact with Rhiannon. Next to them stands a man, rounder and balding, gun pointed at Frankie’s midsection. Everything is too quiet, everyone holds still for too long. “Luke?” Rhiannon tries, voice dry and words barely audible.

His hand brushes her back for a moment, a comforting reassurance, and he slips in front of her. “We don’t want no trouble,” he starts. Out stretches his arms in front of him in attempt to look non-threatening. 

“Neither do we, but seems we found some,” the man says. The sounds of his feet stepping forward, of his sleeves sliding past his jacket to point his gun now at Luke echoes in Rhiannon’s ears. 

“The gas?” Luke’s words are mixed in with an anxious laughter. “You can have the gas, we don’t need it.”

“It’s all your-aah!” Frankie’s sentence is cut off by the woman twisting her arm further. 

“Ow,” Birdy echoes, wiggling free from Frankie’s arms. Her body sways as she waddles forward. Each set of eyes is perched on her little frame, but no one moves. She lands at Rhiannon’s shaking legs, pawing and begging to be picked up. Arms like molasses, Rhiannon does.

The wind picks up. It takes a moment before anyone speaks again. “Lilly,” the man says, head turning to his partner. “Every time I see a kid like that,” brown teeth flare between chapped lips, “stupid kid, I wonder how they’d make it alone.”

“Simple,” the woman, Lilly, responds. “She wouldn’t.” 

She drops Frankie’s arm, pushing her forward into Luke. Frankie grabs onto his arms to stable herself. “It’s all black, Luke,” she says into his chest. 

“This world,” she continues, “is about survival, isn’t it? Everything we do must be in the name of survival.” 

The pause in her monologue gives Frankie enough time to turn to Rhiannon. Her face is red, lip is bleeding. Her hands shake with their grip on Luke’s arm. She’d apologize for the whitening skin underneath her even whiter knuckles, but now isn’t the time. She spares one more glance to the man and his gun. It aims at her, at Luke, barrel far enough away from the youngest of their group to reassure Frankie when she yells, “Run, Ray, take Birdy and run.” 

The man’s hands are fast as he redirects the gun’s aim. He shoots at the ground, whooping and calling in the bang of the bullet. He laughs. Rhiannon’s feet don’t move. Her mouth stumbles around sounds but she doesn’t make any. “That’s a good girl, Ray,” the man says. That sickly grin creeps up on his lips again. “Don’t you move.”

“Survival,” Lilly says. “Our survival depends upon people. Bodies. We need soldiers.”

“Perfect little soldiers, right here.” The man laughs.

“There’s a little war we’ve been fighting,” she continues, ignoring her partners stoppage, “And you are just what we need.”

“I’m not a soldier,” Frankie starts. “We’re not soldiers.”

“That can change.”

Luke’s eyes close for a second, just a second, to inhale. His lips tremble for a second, really, only a second, before he shoves Frankie behind him. Before he speaks, hands outstretched once again. This time, it’s less of a show of trustworthiness and more of an appeal to God. “Girls won’t be much help. Baby’s only four, and the older ones won’t listen to nobody. Weak, too. Really, only one worth the time is me.”

The edges of Lilly’s mouth tilt up, just slightly, but the rest of her face is stoic and she is silent. 

“If you let the girls go, just take me, I’ll do whatever you want. Just let my girls go.” 

Though she knew this is what he’d been building to, Rhiannon can’t silence the small sob from her throat.

The man looks to Lilly for the final word on Luke’s proposal. Lilly’s smirk is all the answer he needs. He makes his way to Luke, gun held firm until he grabs onto Luke’s arms. 

“Go back to that cabin we drove by. Stay there, and I’ll be back. Don’t leave, Frank, I’ll be back.” Luke bore into Frankie, eyes unwavering but voice doing that tenfold. Red cheeks and sweaty, sweaty forehead and the promises he makes even though his face says that he knows he will never be able to make good on them. Frankie will never be able to forget that.

The three of them walk at an almost leisurely pace, backs turned on the three girls. Soon, Luke is only a smudge of color, and then, nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a personal favorite of mine!! let me know what you think!


	8. queasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is so much brush, undergrowth, that the treetops aren't important.

The girls have been hidden in the woods for a few hours when they begin to hear footsteps. They had gone back to the car, collected their bags, filled them with whatever else they couldn’t carry. Wordlessly, Frankie had grabbed Luke’s bag and slung it on her back before her own. They had left the car, doors open and gutted, hoping it would let Luke know they were still in the area.

Now they sit in the leaves, huddled together, and so tired. Tears still fall down Rhiannon’s cheeks every once in a while, but she tries to wipe them away quickly. Birdy had walked as far as she could, growing anxious and tired, and by now Frankie and Rhiannon were trading off who had to carry her. She sleeps in Frankie’s arms, head hanging back and the smallest, cutest snore sneaking out her lips. Frankie has already decided to stay up, knife held in her hand tightly. Her palms are wet around the handle, but her clenched teeth and panicked glances back and forth along the darkened forest floor won’t let her relax. Rhiannon leans against her shoulder, and she doesn’t know if her sister is awake. 

The forest is far from quiet, and shuffling noises keep her on edge. The shuffling is brief, and could be from anything, of course. Still, it continues for longer than Frankie is comfortable with. Any dead that had been riled up from the encounter early were long gone by now. 

She’s slept in the woods before, stayed up all night to keep watch, too. That was years ago, though, and it was just Rhiannon and Frankie then. They’d lean against each other, tree behind them. Each would hold a knife in hand, maybe something else if they had it. Rhiannon would always take the first sleeping shift. Breezes would tangle their hair and drag up leaves, but Frankie could always keep calm. It was only ever a breeze. Her eyes would adjust, whether it was a thick crescent moon above them or nothing at all. 

Tonight is not like that. Frankie’s vision is blurred, eyes full of tears she tries to keep quiet. The leaves were never just leaves. The ones on the trees block the moon out, block out any stars. The ones on the ground only rustle with the return of Lilly, coming to take her and her sister and leave Birdy in the woods to starve. The thought never leaves her head.

They only settle, comfortable and without fear, when the sun begins to rise. It’s dark enough under the trees that Rhiannon and Birdy can sleep, anyways. Frankie, after some time, does too. Her dreams emulate the visions her eyes created in the dark.

“Hey,” the word is punctuated with a kick to the tree the girls are leaning against. “You guys alive?”

“What?” Rhiannon’s voice is groggy.

“They’re alive,” the voice says. 

“Who are you and what do you want?” Frankie asks before even opening her eyes. Frankie’s hand is around her knife quickly, hiding the movement behind Birdy’s sleeping body. Two boys stand over them. They chuckle a little, avoiding Frankie’s question. One blonde, hair like a child who got his hands on scissors. He was tall, mean looking. Definitely the kind of guy that would’ve bullied Frankie in elementary school. The other was tall, too, though now that she thinks about it, that could’ve been the angle. Thick dreads framed his face, but he looked much kinder. He held a smile and a hand out for one of the girls to take. Neither of them take it. Rhiannon shifts Birdy to her hip and stands on her own. Birdy grumbles, but leans on Rhiannon’s shoulder to continue to sleep. Frankie stumbles up the same, knife behind her back. 

The nicer one puts his hand to his hip. “You guys okay? Not an ideal place to sleep.” He dangles a chair leg from his other hand. Nails jut out from its tip, brushing his pants as it swings slightly. Rhiannon’s eyes stay on it for a bit too long, noting the lack of wetness, dried blood crusted over the tips of the nails. His grip is weak, not bracing for a hit. 

“We’re fine,” Rhiannon says briskly. “We’ll just be going.” She bends down to pick up her bag, and Frankie sees her pull her own knife from the top and stuff it in a sleeve.

“How old is she?” This time it’s the safety scissors kid who speaks. He sounds just like Frankie would’ve pictured. The other boy looks to him quickly, and surprise flashes over his face before it returns to its smile.

“Doesn’t matter.” Rhiannon’s voice might’ve shook, might’ve held some kind of uncertainty, had this been years ago. Back when she met Luke. Maybe she would’ve even answered. She would’ve felt bad at least, had this been hours ago. Now? She shoves through the boys and trusts that Frankie will follow.

“We got some food,” the nicer one tries, “If you, uhh, want some?” He grins now, teeth about as yellow as you’d expect nowadays. 

The blonde one smiles too, but his face doesn’t suit it. It looks almost like he’s pulling the sides up. His lips are pressed together like his teeth might fall out. Arrows jut out from his shoulder blades, little colored tufts that Rhiannon has to take a moment to place. The bow in his hand is heavy, dragging his shoulder to hang low. The movements to draw an arrow, hold it between his fingers and load it, point it at Birdy, at Frankie, would be too quick, impossibly fluid. Rhiannon just knows it.

Yet the longer they stand in front of these boys with sticks in their hair, bugs nipping at their socked ankles, stomachs impossibly empty the more they think about it, neither boy moves. They just smile with their too tight lips and slightly unfocused eyes.

Frankie loosens her grip. “Yeah.” Her mouth is slick with saliva and she ignores Rhiannon’s mouth parting with surprise. “If you’ll share, we’d like to eat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for some awesome responses!! my week has been quite rough and they were so so nice to see!  
> this is my last week of camp so hopefully i can be putting chapters up much more reliably now!! let me know what you guys think!!


	9. ornery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you've got to start with a wash of color.

“We’ve done it alone before. We don’t need them. We don’t even know them!” Rhiannon has been on the brink of yelling for five minutes, pacing in front of the door to a room in a hallway she knows she wouldn’t be able to find her way out of.

“They’re just kids!” Frankie has grown exasperated with attempting to keep calm, so she spits this retort a little harsher.

“We didn’t know that then!” Rhiannon groans. “We can’t just trust random people, Frankie! Look what happened to Luke!”

“Luke was a random person, Ray!”

Rhiannon is quiet for a moment. She shuts her eyes for this next one. She knows where it’s going. “Yeah, and now he’s gotta go be some fuckin’ soldier for some crazy bitch and a pedophile. Why’s that, Frankie? Oh yeah, ‘cause you had to go out and be a dumbass! You can’t make all the fuckin’ decisions.” This last sentence is much quieter, but still holds a punch in the air. “Maybe you shouldn’t make any of them.”

Frankie is on her feet before she puts thought to doing so. She almost doesn’t recognize her sister in this moment. Rhiannon’s face is red, sunburnt, almost, in anger. Her lips are pursed like they’d slip open and shout again if she didn’t watch them. Frankie stares, mouth tumbling around words for a few seconds but nothing sounds right. The slamming of the door behind her is enough of a reply, she supposes.

She walks past open doors, rooms with children peering out at a strange face, and tries not to make eye contact. She laces back through halls that look familiar and halls that don’t, backtracking when she thinks she’s lost, until she finds a door that leads outside. She just needs to breathe air that Rhiannon hasn’t breathed for a minute, she tells herself. Inside, she knows that Rhiannon will still blame her for Luke if she breathes different air. Still feels good, though. 

The school is huge, bigger than any place they had stayed before. Louis and Marlon, that’s the nice one and safety scissors, walked the three of them through the short, heavily-trodden trail to it. They walked them through their defenses, eyes cast up to a girl who sat high above the fence, waving their arms so she knew it was okay, and introduced them to a few other children. A boy Omar and a girl Ruby. Marlon said there were a few others on the grounds, somewhere.

Frankie hasn’t been able to get a good look until now. Its height isn’t uniform, taller in some places and shorter in others. Vines crawl up the sides and spring little leaves and flowers down the columns. In the far corner of the school there’s wreckage, almost like it was burned. The place looks like its been in the apocalypse for twenty years longer than the rest of the world, though its seclusion means it’s been barely touched. Thick brick posts support a fence, the fancy kind the girls used to see in front of gated communities they would sneak into on Halloween. They’d give good candy bars.

“No baby?” Frankie whips around to face the speaker. Louis stands behind her, a hand placed awkwardly on his neck. He smiles, again, and Frankie thinks maybe he just stays like that all the time.

A breeze whips through, chilling Frankie’s arms through her thin sweater. She pulls her arms in close. “She’s upstairs with Ray.” She doesn’t hold eye contact. Instead, she keeps walking.

“You guys stayin’ the night?” Louis asks. His hand drops and he moves quickly for a few steps to catch up.

Frankie only shrugs in response.

“You’re all sisters, right? You and the other one look alike.” Louis trails behind Frankie.

“Uh, yeah. Rhiannon’s my little sister. Birdy is… yeah.” 

“Bad topic, noted,” Louis says, laughing lightly. Testing the waters.

“Yeah,” Frankie laughs too. Waters are safe.

“Where is your sister?” He asks, looking around briefly.

“How should I know?” Frankie is a bit too upset to control her snarky reply, but cringes at herself when she thinks about it later.

Louis winces. “Fight?” 

Frankie nods.

“Ya’ like music?” Louis swings to stand in front of her.

Frankie opens her mouth to respond, pulls a confused face, and shuts it. “I mean, yeah.” She pauses. “But there’s a million other things you could say to drag this conversation on.” 

Louis chokes out a laugh. “Yeah, but this is a dead conversation topic I am particularly fond of.” 

“Fair,” Frankie gives. She pulls a leaf off a vine that she’d been paused to inspect. She begins to pick at it, fiddling with her hands. “You like music?”

“I am so glad you asked. I love it. Next question.” Louis does the same as Frankie, pausing to watch her fingers before emulating. 

Frankie gives him a sideways glance. “You’re the one who’s been asking the questions.” She looks at her own hands, then his. “You copyin’ me?”

His hands fly behind his back, and he crosses his feet with a guilty grin. “Would never.” Frankie chuckles and continues walking. 

“Ain’t you got something else to do?” It sounded a lot less rude in her head. It’s out, though, of her head, and Frankie can only give a sheepish grin to smooth it over. Frankie imagines that the kids at the school are interested in her and the girls. They look like they’ve been undisturbed, probably the first new people they’ve seen. Still, it wasn’t like they had promised to stay any longer than twenty minutes. Why waste time getting to know any of them if they’ll be gone tomorrow? 

“I guess I do, yeah, but, if I’m going to be honest, nobody else wants to talk to me. I wore ‘em all down. Figured I’d get the jump on the new kid. Annoy her really early.” He pulls the stem of the leaf from behind his back and holds it out to Frankie. She takes it with a smile. “Wanna hear my new song?”

“Song?”

Frankie follows his lead back into the school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys i can't even make an excuse for not posting bc i really dont have one. sorry about that!!   
> but here's one of my favs!! lou is my BOY and i adore writing him!   
> please leave a comment and let me know what you think!!!


	10. repentance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Head low and back always, always bending.

The room is eerily quiet when Frankie leaves. Rhiannon sits on one of the bunkbeds, back against the wall. She looks around the room, taking it in, for the first time. Tan wallpaper hangs off the browning walls in big strips that she knows Birdy will pull down if they spend more than a day here. The bedposts of the bunkbeds are etched with names and initials of children likely dead. She hates to think that these kids spent large portions of their unreasonably short life in this little room with three other kids they don’t know. 

On the bed opposite is their stuff, tossed aside when their fight had started. Luke’s orange bag, spilling over with their map and their food saved for the trip. Rhiannon could feel the panic of yesterday just looking at it.

 

“Birdy,” she says after a minute. “Come sit and talk with me.” Rhiannon decides that now is as good a time as any, maybe even better. She doesn’t know if she’d trust Frankie to handle it anyways.

Birdy climbs into Rhiannon’s lap, settling in the nook of her crossed legs. Her little face looks to Rhiannon, waiting, but her eyes never make contact.

“That stuff that happened earlier was really scary, right?” Birdy nods. “We didn’t know those people and they wanted to do some awful stuff to us.” Rhiannon stops. Her tongue feels gummy, her mouth filled with cotton. “Me and Frank and your dad kept you safe, just like we always say we will.” The little girl’s eyes have drifted elsewhere, staring at the walls or the interesting floor, but Rhiannon knows she’s listening. Birdy is always listening. “Your dad most of all, he kept all of us safe.” Another long pause where Rhiannon tries to swallow the feeling of crying in her throat. “But that means we won’t see him anymore. Not for a long time,” she gives up on swallowing her sobs. “Or maybe ever again.”

“Dad?”

Rhiannon pulls the little girl in close. “He’s real close by, B, and he’s so smart that he’ll be safe.” She repeats those same words in her head, over and over. Repetition makes them stop sounding like words, after a while, but there’s a comfort of the sounds echoing through the chambers of her brain. It leaves little room for anything else to take up space.

The two stay close, stay entwined for a while. 

When they pull apart, Rhiannon wipes Birdy’s little face of tears. “Don’t worry about nothing, okay, B?” Rhiannon adds. “I’ll take care of you, and Frank, too.” She had been able to push the thought away before, but Rhiannon worried about her sister. 

The girls don’t share any words for a while. Birdy stims, dragging fingertips across her face. After talking it through with Birdy, Rhiannon doesn’t exactly feel good, but she does feel better.

She drifts in and out of sleep when she hears voices outside the door. Marlon, the apparent leader of this group, and Frankie. She’s up in a moment, and he doesn’t have time to open the door before Rhiannon has done it for him. “We’ve got dinner in a couple hours,” he finishes. “You’re welcome to stay.” He turns to address Rhiannon too. “Maybe you guys can come down and help Omar with it.”

“Yeah,” Rhiannon responds, cutting Frankie off. “Sounds good.”

Marlon leaves, and the silence between the two is thick. Frankie goes to the bed, pulling Birdy onto her lap. “How are you, lady?” she asks.

“I’m good.” Birdy responds. She’s heard Luke and Frankie and Rhiannon trade the same sentences back and forth enough that she knows this is the response. 

“I’m good, too, Birdy! Nice job!” Frankie punctuates her sentence with a kiss on the forehead.

“Is now the best time?” Rhiannon doesn’t even turn to look at her sister.

Frankie bites her tongue to hold in a groan. “You want her to talk, don’t you?” She breathes slowly, and continues, calmer, “She’s gonna need us to be as consistent as possible right now. You don’t have to talk to me, be as mad as you want, but leave her out of it.”

“Fuck you, Frank. You don’t get to act high and mighty right now.”

“Fuck off.”

“Sure,” Rhiannon snaps back, picking Birdy up and slamming the door behind her.

\---

She doesn’t go very far. The two of them bumble about the hallway for a few minutes, Rhiannon grumbling complaints she knows Birdy shouldn’t hear. “Frank just… She’s so fucking stupid!” Birdy listens, of course, listening is what she does best. Rhiannon, Frankie and Luke have had about a million conversations about how much she’s understanding what they say. Almost never responding, if she does it’s with the last few words of the question she’s been asked, it’s hard to tell what she’s gleaning from a conversation. The answer the three of them have landed at is that she understands everything. “Shit.”

Rhiannon is quiet for a minute, thinking, collecting, and changes her tone. “Sorry, B. I don’t mean it that way. Frank is just… She takes this kinda stuff hard. You know, Birdy?” Birdy nods, more to the point that she knows she was asked a question than in a response.

“Those are some big words for a kid like that.” 

Rhiannon stifles her surprise at the intrusion to her conversation. A girl, one of the ones she’d briefly seen during her tour of the school. She had ignored the introductions then, and doesn’t feel much like continuing them now. She pulls Birdy closer to her chest, words sharp and defensive. “A kid like what?”

“Young,” the girl’s voice is soft. Her red hair is pulled into a bun that dots the top of her round face. “She just looks awful young, is all I mean.”

“Oh.”

“Ruby,” she says, sticking a hand out. 

Rhiannon fumbles, switching Birdy to her left side to take Ruby’s hand. “Rhiannon.”

“And who’s this?”

“B, what’s your name?” 

“Name,” Birdy says, smiling with all her teeth. 

“What’s your name?” Rhiannon asks again.

“Birdy!”

Ruby is captivated, a state Birdy is quite used to putting people in. She leans in close, grinning back. “Ain’t you just the cutest little thing!” 

“Right now she is,” Rhiannon laughs. Ruby does, too, and Birdy joins in last.

“You got the tour yet?”

Rhiannon nods. “Yeah, but I wasn’t paying all too much attention.”

“Well!” Ruby doesn’t seem to put any effort into concealing her excitement. “Are you in need of another?” 

Rhiannon nods again.

“I would be delighted to take you,” her voice falls a little, “if you’d like.”

“I would, I think. So would Birdy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey friends long time no see!! im not even gonna try to make an excuse but i hope yall like this one! i swear i will TRY to put stuff up some more.


	11. content

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe comfort isn't exactly extinct.

Evening comes quickly with both girls apart. They haven’t been with anyone else besides each other, Birdy and Luke in years. Sure, the group would come across other people every once in a while, but they liked to keep their interactions to a strict passing by. Frankie enjoyed the consistency of the four of them, loved how she could depend on their small unit and not worry about the reliability of a large group. Still, she found solace in gaining space from Rhiannon now. She spends her days with Louis, mostly. Some mornings, Louis knocks on the door early. “Frank,” he always says, no matter who opens the door, “Come out with me this mornin’? Check the traps?” And Frankie does, leaving Birdy with a kiss and Rhiannon with a nod. Sometimes Marlon tags along. Frankie much prefers the mornings he doesn’t, though. Other mornings, she meets Violet and Louis outside, usually when they’re partway through an argument about something stupid. She’d have Birdy with her, and Louis and Violet would try to teach her their names. She tended to forget, and it was a point of pride for Louis that he remembered his first. These mornings passed much slower, filled with laughter and usually music. These mornings were so easy to get lost in, with the warm sun and the yellow air surrounding her. She felt like she was swimming in it. Always holding her breath.

Rhiannon spent her time almost opposite to Frankie. The avoidance of her sister was intentional in the first few days, but after a bit it just became habit. Rhiannon often slept in on morning, either cuddling Birdy close to her or sprawled out across the small bed, if Birdy was with Frankie. Afternoons would be by soon, and she would find Omar. He always needs help, and she takes direction well. “What’s on the menu tonight, cap? She always asks. Once, Birdy says it to Omar at dinner, mouth stuffed and broth sliding down her chin. The table erupts in laughter, and she loves it. Birdy sometimes gets to mix, her little face hanging over the hot pot just a little too close. It’s a business relationship, at first, but he’s a nice guy, and Rhiannon likes him. She and Ruby spend evenings with him, sometimes Aasim, too, braiding old ropes to make new traps they could send Willy out to set in the morning.

Birdy takes to the kids well. She loves attention, loves to interact with everyone. Sometimes, she sits next to Louis at the piano, bobbing along to whatever he plays. Sometimes he gets her to press a few keys along with him. He has vowed to Frankie he’s going to teach her a song, and while Frankie was sarcastic with him, she thinks about that conversation often. 

One afternoon, Rhiannon sits with Birdy in the grass of the courtyard. Out of the corner of her eye, she keeps watch of the child, but mostly she picks at the splintering wood of the picnic table she sat at. On the ground, Birdy sways slightly. She holds her hands out in front of her in an itsy-bitsy spider-like movement. 

“What’s she doing?” Mitch says, standing behind Rhiannon and looking down at the kid. He moves to sit next to her. His voice is soft and genuinely curious.

“I think she’s stimming,” answers Rhiannon. “She does it a lot.”

“What’s that?”

 

The two of them watch Birdy. “It’s like motions or noises or stuff she makes ‘cause they make her feel good. It’s an autism thing.”

“She’s autistic?” Mitch whispers this, like he’s afraid to ask.

Rhiannon shrugs, saying, “I don’t know. We think so. Me and Frank had a brother kinda like her.”

“Oh.” Is all he says. After a few minutes of watching, he sits next to her. She has moved on by now to pulling grass up. Mitch joins in on her mission, yanking clumps up a bit too hard and pulling the soil up with them. She takes his clumps and brushes the dirt away, laying them on his legs. It’s breezy and quiet, the air cool and surrounding them in this moment.

Eventually, Mitch stands and brushes off his pants. “I gotta go,” he tells the two girls. “I told Willy I’d show him a dead snake with a whole rat inside.”

The whole thing felt comfortable, maybe a bit too much. They stay busy. It keeps them distracted, yeah, but it also rids them of some guilt. If they’re busy, doing things for the school, then they’re productive. Then it’s not a waste for them to stay. 

They didn’t really have a conversation with Marlon. One morning, Louis, Marlon and Frankie had gone out. Marlon had just brought in the safe zone, which Louis says is a new invention in the first place, claiming that it wasn’t safe to be so far away. The girls had only been at the school a week or so, but they had already found their rhythm with most of the kids. 

When they are a little ways from the school, Marlon turns to Frankie. “You guys got nobody else?” He asks.

Frankie is taken aback by the conversation topic. She nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah. We were with someone else but… Nobody sticks long.” She and Rhiannon had decided not to tell anyone about what really happened to Luke. Frankie had been a proponent for this out of guilt. She didn’t want anyone to know she had let her friend, the father of Birdy and the only person she and Rhiannon had met that really mattered in years just be taken away by a threatening woman and a gun. Rhiannon had thought the story might make the school fear them. Think that maybe the girls were targets, and those people would be back. Either way, they decided to keep it quiet.

“Like it here?” He asks next. He turns back to the trap in his hand, resetting it.

“Yeah,” Frankie says, again, and feels a bit self-conscious at sounding so clueless. “The girls, they seem to really like it.”

“Okay,” is all Marlon responds with. The topic of staying or leaving is never discussed again.

So stay they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys i promise clementine is coming SOON shes in chapter 14.


	12. bitterness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was torn apart can be stitched together.

“Can you two go and get the fish with Violet? Lou’s being a pussy and Marlon said Ruby could watch Birdy.” Aasim approached the sisters early one morning, hoping to snag them before they made any other plans for the day. “Everybody else is busy,” he adds with his best attempt at a warm smile.

The sisters looks at each other, putting aside their argument for a second to have a silent conversation on whether they trusted Ruby to watch Birdy. The wrinkle of doubt on Frankie’s brow is softened by a soft nod from Rhiannon.

The expedition is silent for the first few minutes. Violet, not being particularly chatty in the first place, combined with the sisters’ ongoing fight made for a very stealthy trip.

“Are you guys ever gonna cut this shit?”

Frankie and Rhiannon are jostled by Violet’s abrupt question. “Wha-”

“This family feud shit. Can you guys either figure it out or suck it up so it’s not awkward and I don’t feel obligated to make conversation?”

Violet’s face holds the same harshness it’s grown accustomed to, but her voice isn’t as serious as usual. The sisters smile at this, just a little, if only to lighten up the mood. 

“I’m gonna walk up here. You catch up.”

This leaves the girls alone, feet shuffling as they walk slow, avoiding eye contact.

“Saw that guy flirting with you,” Rhiannon says, a few steps in front of Frankie. She doesn’t turn to direct the words back. 

“Lou?” Frankie chuckles. “Don’t know if it was flirting. I think he’s just like that.” She pauses, hoping Rhiannon will turn around with a softened face. “Won’t it suck when he finds out I’m gay.”

Finally, Rhiannon smiles, turning and stopping to let Frankie match her pace.

Frankie continues. “Plus, I’m too busy parenting.”

“Hey! I do as much with Birdy as you do,” Rhiannon says.

“I was talking about you, asshole. Someone’s gotta keep you in line.”

The sisters laugh, really just laugh, for a second. When they stop, the air is as heavy as it was before.

“I know Luke wasn’t your fault,” Rhiannon says to the air in front of her.

“Wasn’t it? I’m the one who said we should go. I’m the one who pushed him to go.” Frankie’s words are barely a whisper.

Rhiannon shakes her head. “No, no. You didn’t... I should never have said it was your fault.” She lays a hand on Frankie’s arm, warm and too soft.

Frankie pulls out of Rhiannon’s grip, speeding up. “I should never have said we’d come here without asking you. So I think we’re even.”

“I’m older now, Frank. I can make decisions too. It’s not like how it was when this all started.” Rhiannon thought she’d been making that obvious for years now. Every time Luke and Frankie shut the door behind them, she opened it. Every time Luke and Frankie spoke in hushed voices, she’d demand they speak up. She needed to be involved. She couldn’t afford to be little.

“I know. I know! I do... Just so used to you being the little sister I take care of.” Frankie can’t trace back the exact moment she realized her sister could take care of herself. She can only remember protecting her, when they were so small and the world was so different. It was easy when it was only spiders in their bedroom.

“What do you think they’re doing to him?

“I don’t know.” Frankie shuts her eyes, head suddenly throbbing with a swelling in her ears.. “Should I have fought more?”

Rhiannon doesn’t take a moment to think about it, simply says, “Should I?”

“I guess not.” The air gets stale. Dust mites flutter in the sunlight. Frankie wants to cry, wants to scream like Rhiannon did, wants to just yell about how goddamn ridiculous the whole thing is. She can’t, not when she and Rhiannon are alone, again, and with Birdy to look after. Not when she has to set an example.

Not when she’s to blame.

Neither sister can find any words to fill this space. Anxious space-filling had been a trait they shared, but lately, they can’t find the energy.

“Are you done yet?” The shout is welcomed, almost, and pulls them out of their heads.

The sisters smile, teeth hidden behind tightened lips, and nods. “Cool,” Violet finishes, “Now can we speed up and get this over with?”

The work doesn’t require much skill. The traps line the river, small wooden rigs that Rhiannon is impressed by. Violet heaves one out with a little grunt, then moves down to pull out the next. Rhiannon pulls the wriggling fish out and places them in buckets. Frankie resets and tosses them back in, settling them in so the fish have no choice but to swim in. The work is quiet, repetitive. Their harvest is small, and they only end up with half a dozen or so flopping around on their way back to the school. 

The bucket swings in Violet’s hand, creaking with the motion of walking. “So, Vi,” Rhiannon starts. The smile she directs to Frankie can only mean this conversation is going to be annoying, at best. “Do you think that Louis kid is flirting with Frank?”

Violet chokes on a laugh, sputtering a bit. 

“Ray, shut up,” 

“Because he should know she’s gay. It runs in the family,” Rhiannon continues.

“I doubt it.” Violet slows down to walk closer to the girls. “I think he is, too.” 

“No way,” Rhiannon chuckles, “Frank, is he?”

Violet and Rhiannon both subside to Frankie, staring expectantly for her response. She rolls her eyes, heaving a sigh when they don’t look away. “I’m not going to speculate. He’s my friend.” She pauses. “But… He does like Marlon a lot.”

“He could do so much better,” Violet says. “But don’t you ever tell him I said something nice.”

Frankie nods. “He will never hear of this conversation. Right, Ray?” 

“Aye aye, cap.”


End file.
